


Ruling Rules And Rulers

by Naemi



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort (concepts), Non-Sexual Spanking, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:08:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemi/pseuds/Naemi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Time for pants down.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ruling Rules And Rulers

 

“Let it be, Tony. It is ridiculous and outright humiliating. And not quite funny, either.”

“Oh, come on, Zee-vaa! I can tell from your face that you want this as much as anyone else in this room.”

“ _I_ don't want it. At all,” Tim stated dryly, but Abby's stern stare made him lower his eyes in resigned obedience.

“A gentleman always pays his betting debts, you know?” she informed him, as if he hadn't paid attention when she said it umpteen times before. “And you are a gentleman, Timmy. Right?”

“I am. I know, all right?” he mumbled, glancing at her before fixing his gaze on Ziva. With her hands in her pockets and a smile on her face, she did not actually seem to be half as concerned as she pretended. “Thanks for trying,” he said nonetheless, and the twinkle in her eyes as she shrugged confirmed that Tim had no defense left.

He turned around, looking at his, well, friends _of sorts_. The three of them were reinforced by Jimmy, who had originally come to Tim's rescue, but was first to snap in the light of both the threat of Abby putting _him_ over her knee if he interfered, and the promise of “a hell of a show.”

“Okay, then. Let's get it over with, shall we?”

“That's the right spirit, Tim,” Tony said with quite some mockery in his voice. He patted him on the back, then clapped his hands together like a child who was about to get a huge slice of birthday cake.

"Time for pants down."

Tim furrowed his brows. "You might at least try not to sound so pleased," he complained halfheartedly. Nevertheless, he started to unbuckle and unzip until a happy, high-pitched giggle from Abby's direction made him pause and shoot her a questioning look.

"Sorry," she said, no less cheerfully, "but I'm excited. It's been a little while, you know?"

"Not funny, Abs."

"Okay, I'll shush. Sorry. Keep going. I'll shush."

With a heavily reluctant sigh, Tim shoved his pants down, giving his friends a fine view of his red and black checked cotton boxers.

"Oh, I love those—" Abby squealed, and waved her hand, cutting herself off. "Never mind."

"She's right, though. They look cute on you, McGee. Where'd you get them? Summer sale at Woolworth's?"

"Yeah, Tony, that's exactly where. I'm surprised you figured it out. You'd make a fine NCIS agent, ever considered it?" Tim snapped at him. He couldn't quite believe this was actually happening. If there was a God, Tim sincerely hoped the deity would smite him right now, _thank you,_ but instead of a merciful angel sent from above, he found himself staring at Tony, who was suddenly standing inches away.

"Don't forget that I outrank you, Probie."

"How could I, _boss_?" he growled, the last word dripping with an emotion dangerously close to scorn.

“Okay. I think we really had our fun now,” Ziva said, trying to interfere.

Much to his own surprise, Tim held her back when she moved to separate the men. “No, Ziva. It's okay. It's just the way he shows that he cares. Right? Tony?”

They stared at each other for a moment until, eventually, Tony's expression softened. “Right,” he confirmed low and stood back. “You ready for this?”

He received a nod in response.

“Well, well, well. Autopsy Gremlin? May we have the rules again, please, for the record?”

“Of course.” Jimmy's face was painted with a mixture of anticipation and concentration as he ticked off the rules of the game on his fingers.

“One: bottom only, nowhere else. Two: Tim's gotta take at least one from each of us. In the case he can't take it, he will buy lunch for three days in a row. Three: every extra blow he takes without backing away earns him ten dollars or a kiss, whichever he prefers. Four: we agree to forget any of this ever happened as soon as it's over. No mocking and such.”

“Add 'no complaining' and I'll be happy,” Tony interjected, to which Tim added, “Yes, and forbid all kinds of puns about asses and sitting.”

“And rulers,” Tony submitted with some sort of a melancholic look on his face.

“And rulers,” Tim nodded.

“Fine.”

“Showtime, I guess.” Abby picked up the wooden blackboard ruler she had bought just for this occasion, and smiled as she pointed toward the evidence table. “If you'll be so kind . . .”

Tim closed his eyes, rubbing them gently with the knuckles of his thumbs as if to chase away the remnants of a nightmare, or maybe an upcoming migraine. While both were likely, neither the gesture nor feigning weakness would help him out of this, as he was well aware. With a last, defeated sigh, Tim lay down on the table. The metal surface was unpleasantly cold against his skin.

“I'll go first,” Abby stated, the ruler making a threatening _swoosh_ as she tested its suitability against the palm of her hand. “Poplar wood. Very lithe.”

The delight in her voice almost made Tim chicken out last minute, but she was faster, holding him down firmly with one hand between his shoulder blades while the other slid the ruler underneath the waistband of his boxers.

“Easy,” she said, “we don't wanna hurt you,” and that was so much of a laugh that no one could help themselves from chuckling—not even Tim.

He relaxed a bit, trying to put trust in his friends.

“Boxers, McGee.”

He complied, receiving a chorus of whistles and “ohs” as he exposed himself. Judging by the heat in his ears, his face must have adopted the color of a cooked lobster—and he'd happily swap lives with the poor animal right now.

The cheering died down eventually, only to be replaced by an air of anticipation.

Tim held his breath—

—and the ruler smacked down on him with an ugly sound, hurting so badly that he almost bit off the tip of his tongue in the attempt to stifle a heavy groan.

“You okay?” Abby inquired, sounding concerned and amused at the same time.

He gave her an unhappy, “Uh-yeah,” in response.

“My turn,” Tony decided, excitement in his voice. He snatched the ruler out of Abby's hand like a man dying of thirst would reach for a bottle of water and let it come down with enough force for Tim to fail at biting back a slightly agonized sound this time.

Jimmy was next, and even if his half-heartedness—he gave a friendly slap rather than a serious hit—earned him some general booing, Tim was grateful for his sympathy. The feeling didn't last for too long, though; Ziva squatted down beside him, resting her hand on the back of his head very lightly and Tim opened his eyes to find them trapped by hers.

“Are you okay?” she asked with much less amusement than Abby had shown mere minutes ago.

“Oh, I'm enjoying myself a whole fucking lot.”

“Good. Then you are going to love this one.”

The next moment, she was out of his sight, and Tim, preparing for the worst, said a silent prayer.

He felt the wood nudging at the small of his back as she explained, “You know, there are eighteen ways to seriously injure you with this ruler . . .”

Tim couldn't help the grin that painted his lips. “That one's really old,” he was about to say, but she dealt the blow the very second he opened his mouth to speak, and it took his breath away. Clenching the table's edges, he panted heavily, waiting for the serpent of pain that wound around him to loosen its grip.

When the feeling died down, he voiced a shaky, yet determined, “Next one. Go on.”

“You know,” Ziva said after a brief moment of unbelieving silence, “I don't think sitting comfortably will be much of an option for the rest of today . . .“

“I am going that extra mile,” Tim insisted, _very_ sternly.

“Look, Tim,” Abby tried to reason, sounding guilty. “We all acknowledge that you're willing to take more. You totally win, okay? But, seriously—I'm out. I like your ass way too much to do it any further harm.”

“Oh, the hell.” Tony's gaze flew from Abby to Ziva and back. “Give me that damned thing. I'm doing it.”

“Don't encourage him,” Ziva protested. Still, she put up no actual resistance when he took the ruler from her hands.

“He encourages me.”

Tim made a snorting sound. “Should have known _you_ wouldn't chicken out.”

“'Course not. I will most certainly not deny you proof of your own willpower.”

“Yeah, nor deny my true need to be spanked until there will be blood, right?”

“That is not only a bad movie reference, but also somewhat rude to say, Timmy. After all, I am doing you a favor.”

“You are,” Tim confirmed, and if Tony would have been the tiniest bit less amused by—or excited over—all of this, he might have noticed the undertone of slyness in his voice.

“This one, all right,” Abby agreed. “But I won't allow any more.”

Tony nodded consent. “Only one. You ready, McGee?”

“As ready as can be.”

Tony took a swing and let the ruler land on Tim's ass with as much force as he dared.

It was pretty bad, yet not quite as mind-blowing as Ziva's go had been. Tim managed to only let out a single sound, in-between a sharp hiss and a throaty growl, followed by a staccato of breaths.

Then, all of a sudden, Tim's hand shot up, grabbing Tony by the hem of his shirt and dragging him down to his knees, to bring them eye level.

“I win.”

Tony nodded, looking serious. “You win,” he confirmed, laying the ruler down on the floor.

“I win,” Tim repeated once more, continuing, “and thus, you owe me.”

“I totally do. Just . . . I don't have my wallet with me, you know . . .”

“I'll take the kiss.”

An electrified murmur went through the group, topped only by the startled, almost terrified expression on Tony's face.

“You—what?”

“I win, I choose. I want the kiss.”

“Fuck—okay. Okay, all right, I guess that's my righteous punishment, but—”

“Glad you agree. Now: Kiss. My. Ass.”

The squeal Abby let out made Tim's heart flutter wildly, and the sweet, sweet loving care she gave him later that night was definitely worth that bit of a soreness he felt.

Tim would wear his winning smile for a very long time afterwards, and that clearly was not against the rules, as Jimmy and Ziva declared in agreement.

Much to Tony's infinite shame.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **Kinky Prompts** , Table One, Prompt #41: Spanking.
> 
> Just a little silly idea that hit me. Consider this homage to McGee's ~~lovely ass, and also to his~~ willpower.  
>  For the record: I don't know if (blackboard) rulers made of poplar wood exist, nor do I care much. Sorry.
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful **Moit** , who also made sure that all characters were returned unharmed.
> 
> [Feedback is love.]


End file.
